My Holocaust Story: Hanna

by Goldie Alexander

  ‘Happy to see you too, Jarek.’ But from Elza’s dry tone I knew she really wasn’t.

  The man said, ‘Saw a couple of kids near the back of your farm. Out in the trees one morning. A young girl, I think. She was running about. There was another kid with her. Have you seen them?’

  Elza paused before saying, ‘Oh, that must’ve been Henrik. My cousin from Lodz. We put up him and his kids while he had some business in Otwock. In return he was helping me stack hay.’

  ‘Didn’t know you had a cousin in Lodz.’ The man gave a hoarse laugh. ‘You wouldn’t want to be hidin’ anyone, would you?’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Elza said tersely.

  ‘Didn’t you work for Jews in Warsaw?’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re on about. Anyway, I’m here now, aren’t I?’

  Spotty kept barking. I knew she was warning that German Shepherd to stay clear. There can’t have been any love lost between Elza and Jarek either, because her tone stayed distant though polite. ‘To what do we owe this visit?’

  ‘Well, now you’re talking.’ He sounded pleased. ‘I came about that land you’re still refusing to sell me …’

  There was a long pause before, ‘Which piece exactly are you after?’

  The door closed behind them.

  Their voices drifted away.

  In the long silence that followed, my heart thumped in my ears.

  Only when we dared breathe again did I peer through the gap between the wall and thatch. Elza and Jarek were walking towards the horse tethered to the fence, that German Shepherd loping behind them.

  By the time summer arrived, Ryzia had turned into a charming toddler, though she was small. We all were I guess, as there was enough to eat to stay alive, but never enough to grow strong. Ryzia was such a chatterbox it was sometimes hard living in the same room and trying to stay calm. But she adored us and showed this by climbing onto our knees and covering us with kisses and hugs. When she got frustrated by not being able to run around, I tried to keep her amused by playing Hide and Seek and Hide the Thimble, not that we had any thimbles to hide, but we made do with my lucky silver rabbit.

  Thankfully, Anya was changing too. Where once she couldn’t bear the sound of a baby, she now took the same liking to Ryzia as she had to Adam. It was hard not to. Ryzia was a little ball of sunshine. I marvelled at the way she had adapted to living the way we did, even if she could hardly remember anything different.

  Anya allowed Adam to bring her downstairs and let her run about.

  She skipped to and fro, stopping to drop kisses on Anya’s wrinkled cheek. Even Mama agreed that Anya was softening, and that we had Ryzia to thank for it.

  Anya never softened to me. But she no longer scowled at me, either.

  The animals were growing too. The six piglets were now bigger, and no longer babies. They grunted at Adam and me when we approached, but their grunts were friendly as they knew us well.

  Spotty, the chickens and ducks, Daisy and the pigs, they almost felt like family now. Elza warned me that it was never a good idea to get too fond of animals on a farm. But how could I not? There was no-one else to talk to.

  Papa insisted that we stick to our routine. So every day after we completed our chores, we continued to work on our maths and science. He said, ‘Even though we don’t have more books, I am able to tell you about the ones I have read. You can tell me about those you have read. And Mama and Adam and Elza can do the same. When we run out of stories, we will make up our own. Imagination is a powerful tool, never forget that.’

  Summer turned into autumn. One day led into the next without much change, but I could watch the seasons through the gap between wall and thatch. Leaves turned red and yellow, finally scattering onto the ground to form crisp brown rugs.

  As the days got colder, frost sat on the grass when I crept from the house to the barn to feed the animals. And then the cold truly set in and snow covered everything. We prepared ourselves for a second winter huddling together as we hid in the loft.

  Elza returned from Otwock one night and asked us to come and join her and Anya by the fire.

  ‘I’m worried,’ she said. ‘The news isn’t good.’

  Papa paused a moment before asking, ‘What have you heard?’

  ‘The Nazis have forced all the Jews in Warsaw to an area in the north. They’ve created a ghetto.’

  Mama gasped.

  ‘Go on,’ Papa urged.

  ‘They are calling it the Jewish Residential Area. But it’s not. It’s a prison. There’s a wall around it, nine feet high with barbed wire on top. Anyone who tries to escape is shot.’ Tears dripped down Elza’s cheeks as she told us.

  ‘But how can that be!’ Mama exclaimed. ‘If all the Jews are there, how can they live in such a space? How big is it?’

  Papa remained very quiet.

  ‘It’s not very big,’ Elza said. ‘It couldn’t be more than a couple of square miles.’ Her head shook with despair. ‘I don’t know!’

  Papa finally spoke. ‘I doubt many of us got out of the city. We were lucky. If most of the Jewish population are there, it must be nearly four hundred thousand people.’

  ‘But that’s dreadful, Romek,’ Mama cried. ‘What will happen to them?’

  ‘I doubt they can survive. With that level of overcrowding, disease will be rampant, and food scarce.’

  ‘There are rations in force.’ Elza kept her voice low in a vain attempt not to frighten us anymore. ‘Jews are to eat less that two hundred calories a day.’

  ‘But then they will starve,’ Mama cried.

  We just looked at each other.

  We were so grateful to Elza. And also to Anya. Hiding in the loft was dreadful, but we had enough food, and shelter, and best of all, we had each other. I couldn’t begin to imagine what life must be like in the ghetto. It must be unbearable.

  The nights were growing colder. I thought I might be able to warm myself practising gymnastics. Perhaps exercising would help my toes and fingers to unfreeze? After barely sleeping on the icy-cold floor, I woke early and carefully lifted myself out of the pile of huddled bodies.

  Adam whispered, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the barn! I’m freezing. I want to run around a bit.’

  ‘I’ll come too,’ he whispered back.

  We tiptoed downstairs, leaving Papa, Mama and Ryzia asleep. We could hear Anya snoring in her bed near the unlit stove. Elza was nowhere to be seen.

  We found her in the barn milking Daisy.

  ‘I thought that was my job,’ I teased her.

  She smiled, resting her head on Daisy’s side. ‘I thought we could use some warm milk. Do you want to try some gymnastics?’

  ‘Yes, anything to get warmer.’

  ‘I’ll chase you!’ Adam cried, and I took off to the back of the barn, him close behind me as Marguerite, Chauvelin and Sheriff and the other birds set up a tremendous din.

  Adam and I raced up and down the length of the barn, laughing and almost forgetting where we were and why we were there. I felt much warmer on the inside and on the inside, too. I hadn’t felt this carefree in ages.

  Suddenly, Spotty was barking from the house. Elza looked up. Spotty rarely barked. Anya would never put up with it.

  This was a warning!

  ‘Hide! Wherever you can,’ Elza hissed.

  Adam and I lost no time running to the end of the barn and covering ourselves with hay. My breath came out in short sharp pants.

  Once Elza knew we were out of sight, she peered out of the barn door. ‘Germans,’ she whispered. ‘Two German trucks.’

  We could hear them come to a halt just outside the barn. From inside the house, Spotty was barking madly. I was sure all that noise would wake Papa and Mama. But if the Germans went inside, surely they’d be found? I couldn’t bear to think about it.

  The animals sensed something was wrong. The pigs grunted and snorted and pushed at their stall-wall; the fowls flapped their wings and screec
hed.

  The barn door sprang open with a loud squeal.

  Elza strode to the door to demand, ‘What do you want?’

  The soldier wasted no time with introductions. ‘We have orders to take your livestock,’ a deep, clipped, voice said. ‘Werner, Schmitt, take the cow and the pigs. You two, round up the birds.’

  Elza began to object. ‘You can’t take—’

  She was cut off, quickly. ‘Shut up! Get out of the way!’ The voice was menacing. Aggressive.

  Elza was quiet after that. I didn’t know if she had meekly submitted, or if they had hit her. It wasn’t like her to give up without a fight.

  By now, Chauvelin was making such a racket, it was hard to hear anything.

  There was a lot of movement, animals being captured and under their loud protests, they were led outside.

  All this time Adam and I stayed as still as possible. We tried not to breathe. I heard those trucks’ engines start up, and then drive down the road away from the farm. We could still hear Chauvelin’s indignant squawking, but soon the sound grew faint.

  We waited a minute or two more before it felt safe enough to emerge.

  We found Elza on the floor of the barn. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t move.

  ‘Is she dead?’ Adam voiced my own fears.

  We ran over to her. She was breathing, but unconscious. She had the beginnings of a large bruise on her temple. Thankfully, no blood.

  Papa appeared through the barn door. ‘Adam! Hanna! Are you all right?’

  We nodded.

  He knelt beside Elza, placed his fingers on her neck and took her pulse. ‘She’s still alive but unconscious. Help me get her into the house. We must make her warmer.’

  ‘Yes, Papa.’ Adam and I took hold of Elza’s legs, while Papa lifted her from under her arms. We carried her like that to the house. Anya and Mama had restarted the stove and moved the bed beside it.

  Once again, Elza had saved us.

  1941

  In the next few months, everything changed. Without our animals, we no longer had the milk and eggs they provided, either to eat or trade. Adam and I didn’t have any morning chores. I missed the sense of purpose the animals had given me. Oh, and how I missed gentle Daisy. Those kind, docile eyes that used to greet me in the mornings. And Sherriff, the bossy drake … those innocent animals had been such a comfort. Without them, it was hard not to feel miserable.

  We needed to be far more careful about conserving food. Elza tried to barter jars of cucumbers and cabbage for bread. But everyone else had enough pickled vegetables, and no-one was interested in buying more.

  Potatoes we did have, but some turned out to be rotten. Sometimes we boiled them and turned them into pancakes. If we were lucky, they didn’t make us sick. Sometimes they did.

  I spent a lot of time looking through the cracks in our loft. All I saw was snow coming down fast, piling up against the walls. Whirling down from the ash sky, those flakes cast big fat moth-like shadows fluttering aimlessly about, doing their best to smother us in a giant grey cushion.

  At night on my thin layer of straw, it was too cold to sleep. I stared into the dark and tried to pretend I was back home on my comfortable mattress in my bed with its blue bedhead, looking across the room at shelves filled with toys and books, and walking on thick rugs that sat on pale wooden boards. From there I roamed into the front rooms where the iron stove kept us wonderfully warm. I stared up at our ceiling to admire the ornate lamps, delicately painted cornices and central roses. After listening to Mama on the piano playing Tchaikovsky and Chopin, I headed into a kitchen always filled with the most delicious smells of frying schnitzel, chicken stew, beef goulash, apple strudel and my very favourite cinnamon and chocolate babka.

  Then I pictured myself back in my gymnastic class, my teacher showing me how to tackle forward- and backward-tumbles on the beam. I needed to know how to perfect my straddle jumps, twist moves, and circles. If the hardest thing was landing on the ground without stumbling, in my mind I always got that right.

  Papa kept reminding me that my imagination was a powerful tool, so I tried to use it as best I could to fight off my growing misery. Though it didn’t always work, very occasionally it did.

  I continued to read and re-read my book. It was the only thing I could do to soak up the hours. Then I was just like Sir Percy in The Scarlet Pimpernel. ‘Pluck and audacity,’ I repeated picturing myself offering snuff to a German officer. While he sneezes and sneezes, I spirit our family to safety right under his nose. I could save Elza and poor Daisy and the animals. I could be just like Sir Percy, but without having to wear a mask. Where Sir Percy disguised his heroism with vanity and folly, I could also disguise myself. Who would ever suspect me, a twelve-year-old girl, as capable of saving anyone from the Nazis?

  Late one evening, another visitor arrived. It was Andre. He had turned up to confront Elza. ‘Are they still here?’ he demanded.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ His voice was harsh. ‘The Jews. Are they still here?’

  His words travelled up to the loft. Each one of them struck fear into us.

  ‘And if they are,’ Elza replied ‘what is to you?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing. Nothing left. Nothing but debts that is.’ Andre’s tone grew quieter.

  ‘None of us have anything.’ Even kind Elza had grown bitter. ‘The Germans have made sure of that.’

  ‘Your Jews … They were rich. I saw where they lived. I know they have money.’

  ‘It was taken away from them too, Andre. They were desperate.’

  ‘I’m desperate now too. I’ve no cows to milk, no stock to take to market.’ His voice suddenly grew ominous. ‘The only thing I’ve got to sell is your secret.’

  ‘You know what that would mean, Andre,’ Anya broke in. ‘You couldn’t! We’d would all be shot! You are prepared to do that to us, your neighbours? You’ve known us all your life. You would do that to settle a few debts?’

  ‘No, no, no.’ There was a pause. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.’

  All this time Papa had stood like a statue at the door of the loft. His face was still, unreadable. I looked at Mama. She clutched Ryzia and Adam to her side, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Papa suddenly opened the door. Before anyone could stop him, he went downstairs. ‘I can give you whatever I have left,’ he announced. ‘Take it. Take all of it. But it buys your silence. If not for us, then for Elza and Anya’s sake. Agreed?’

  Andre didn’t answer.

  ‘Andre?’ Elza pleaded.

  ‘Yes. Agreed.’ And with that we heard the front door close. Papa beckoned us to come downstairs.

  ‘Can we trust him?’ Mama asked.

  ‘I don’t know. What do you think, Elza?’

  Elza looked nervous. ‘He brought you here, and took a great risk to do so. And he’s kept the secret for a long time, nearly two years.’

  Anya spoke. ‘He wants money. That’s why he did it. That’s why he took the risk. And after this money runs out, why still take the risk?’

  ‘She is right,’ Papa said. ‘And it seems there may be a reward for turning us in.’

  ‘He’s a gambler,’ Elza said. ‘Always has been. He has a good heart, but the gambling has knocked any sense out of him.’

  ‘It’s not just him we have to worry about,’ Anya said. ‘Jarek has his eye on us too. I’m not selling my farm to him and he knows it.’

  ‘He showed up again, last week, prowling round the fields,’ Elza said. She looked at Papa. ‘I hadn’t wanted to worry you.’

  ‘He’s a crook,’ Anya hissed.

  ‘I told him again that Mama will never sell,’ Elza told us. ‘And what he could do with his money. What use to us is money when there’s no food to buy—or nowhere to live?’

  ‘He is an angry man,’ Papa mused. ‘Angry men are dangerous.’

  Mama was crying. ‘Romek, what should we do? Where are we to go?’
>
  ‘Could we hide in the forest?’ Adam suggested.

  ‘Not in winter. We’ll freeze to death. Perhaps, if it were summer, we could stand a chance.’

  ‘What do we do, Papa? I asked, repeating Mama’s question. Tears rolled down my face. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘We can only wait and see,’ Papa answered. ‘Wait and see.’

  I took Papa’s words quite literally, and spent the next day waiting and watching the world outside through that crack. There wasn’t much to see. Most of the birds had already flown south. Everything I looked at seemed to have turned either black, grey or white in the pale winter light. Charcoal clouds hung heavily. The pine trees were covered in snow. They remained like a last remnant of beauty.

  I tried to remember the fields as a riot of poppies, carnations, sunflowers, daisies and violets that blossomed when autumn and winter were over and a fresh spring breeze filled the air. That helped remove some of my fear.

  I resumed my watch next morning. Mama tried to coax me away from the crack, but I insisted. Once again, grey clouds blocked out any sunlight and the courtyard was lifeless and still.

  In the late morning, the stillness was interrupted by the arrival of a truck. The truck bore the Nazi insignias and flag.

  I let out a warning cry.

  We had been betrayed.

  Our first night in the ghetto in Zelazna Street, our room was cold and noisy; however, it was the first in a long time we hadn’t gone to bed starving. The food we bought at the markets meant we ate more that evening than in months.

  Papa was determined to improve our living conditions. Next day he went out at dawn and didn’t return until five hours later, pulling a small cart filled with furniture.

  He had bought a small table, four wooden chairs, five straw mattresses, an old tin bath and best of all, a small stove for cooking and warming water so we could wash both ourselves and our clothes.

  Mama stared at these articles in disbelief before asking, ‘Romek, how on earth did you manage it?’

  ‘Not everyone in the ghetto is poor,’ he told her placing the table in the centre of the room. ‘Some make pots of money. They bring food and goods into the ghetto. Some smugglers are so rich, they live like kings.’ He settled four chairs around the table before continuing, ‘Even though many people beg for food, these smugglers live in luxurious apartments on Chlodna Street.’ He looked around for a moment before adding, ‘You can see them in the Cafe Hirschfield. I’m told you can buy almost anything there. Gold, diamonds, any food you fancy, ration cards, even forged identity papers.’